


For Whom the Bell Tolls

by TheUnkindledQueen



Category: Diablo III
Genre: Based off of a dream I had, this is an old fic inspired by fanart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 03:49:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20401192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnkindledQueen/pseuds/TheUnkindledQueen
Summary: ROS: He had opened her eyes to the truth of things, and so brought about her end. Malthael saw all humans worthy of death. She was no different.





	For Whom the Bell Tolls

**Author's Note:**

> "Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there's a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see."
> 
> \- Helen Keller
> 
> "The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."
> 
> \- Mark Twain

~O~

The library was all but silent.

He had almost forgotten how truly serene the silence could be.

Malthael had been drifting ever so slowly through the fabric of reality, uncovering the truth of things. Mortals would die and he would bring about their death. Truly then shall the Eternal Conflict be over. Such was his plan after his departure from Heaven.

There were candles lit about in the library, their flames dimming as he passed. Such a limited collection of mortal tomes. What did they hope to understand?

Then, he saw it. A mortal leaned over a table, fingers scrolling over several piles of books.

A mortal female.

Malthael drew his weapons and made his way toward her. He could almost smell the stink of her demon half; just another mortal in his path who would perish.

"Have you come for me, warrior of the Heavens?"

She spoke? Why would she address him?

The mortal turned, her features scarcely lit by the failing light of the candles. The manner in which she spoke seemed to carry that familiar, faint trill of uncertainty.

But no fear.

She did not fear him?

"I cannot say that I was fully prepared to die so soon," she continued, "But if you truly wish for my life at this point, then feel free to claim it. I will not fight you."

She would dare? The impudent human would dare speak to him in such a tone?

Malthael's shotels disappeared and he took the human by the throat. His actions must have been far quick than what she had anticipated, for the soft cry of fright that escaped her was appropriate. He watched as her meaty hands grasped uselessly at his armored wrist and leaned forward.

She was blind.

Rarely had Malthael come face-to-face with an impaired human, though he would admit their entire species was an impairment of creation itself. The fact that she didn't react because of this made sense why she did not fear him. She could not see her death, therefore she had no reason to be afraid.

She had been blind all her life, as far as he could see. Always in the darkness, she never knew what the Light truly was.

Such a simple insect, but Malthael had a simple interest in seeing how this one would react otherwise. So he raised his hand and clasped it around her head. She shuddered and let out a small sound of confusion.

"See..." he ordered, his low, gravely voice resonating through her being.

"I-I cannot see," she whispered, "I haven't been able to see my entire li - "

She was cut off and a small cry of pain escaped her, followed by a hurried gasp. Her fingers dug harder into his arm, though the gesture proved useless. It seemed that instinctively, mortals were driven by self-preservation, regardless of how pitiful their attempts were.

The woman shrieked now, the flesh around her eyes smoking before Malthael released her, throwing her to the floor as if she weighed nothing. She laid there for several moments, whimpering in pain and clawing her face. The angel before her did nothing. He merely...waited.

The mortal blinked once. Twice. Her flesh had been disfigured somewhat around her eyes. She struggled and sure enough, her vision began to clear. It began as shapes and shadows before the angel appeared in her vision. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

"I...I can see!" she gasped.

She stared down at her hands; for the first time, she knew what they looked like. Such a simple, silly thing, but it didn't matter.

"Then you will watch the world perish..." the angel whispered.

The mortal showed gratitude nonetheless for his deed. Such a pitiful creature. But she had shown arrogance in his presence. Arrogance in assuming that she would speak to him in such a way. Mortals rarely spoke to him in such a manner. He would save this one for last.

He turned and departed.

O

The mortal was there again.

Malthael saw her from a distance, speaking of his deeds. It was all the more pathetic in knowing that false hope would be destroyed. Let them dream. Let them wish. It would only end in their ruination as it had so many others. Once he found where Tyrael had hidden the Black Soulstone.

He cared not to know her name. All humans were filled with the stench of their demonic halves. There was no need to understand them otherwise.

Curiosity was not a trait the former Aspect of Wisdom possessed, but he felt it's faint, infinitesimal glint cross his thoughts. A mortal who did not fear was normally the Nephalem. But this mortal was simply ordinary, by far as useless as a fly to the wind.

She felt his presence later that evening while she slept. Malthael drifted across the dank, wretched halls of her home where she dwelled, watching as she slumbered and stirred. She seemed, frightened in dream more than in waking world.

Malthael raised a single shotel, bringing it close to her beating heart. That mixed, polluted thing where all evil dwelled in Men. He wanted to drive it through her chest, soak the floor in her foul, wretched blood.

Instead, he did not.

It would be too simple to rip the soul from her body, but he had a job to do. A job to end the whole of humanity. What was one simple insect?

So he left once again, the trail of shadow that he had brought disappearing with him.

O

Demons ravaged the little town.

Malthael had been drawn by their stench upon his retrieval of the Soulstone. He could feel it pulsing within his grasp, the Lords of Hell stirring relentlessly beneath its thin membrane of crystal.

This was a start.

Malthael sent his legions to obliterate what was left of it. Through the ashes and flames, he saw the little mortal making her way down the roads, trying to help another of her wretched kind.

"Anna, please go!" she pleaded.

Malthael tilted his head.

The mortal he had aided was wounded, her arm clearly infected by a demonic touch. Though she seemed to be fighting it. How unusual.

Once she was sure the other mortal was safe, she rushed through the flames and debris of a local church, attempting to hide from the demons, no doubt. Malthael followed her.

She took refuge behind a collection of chairs. Malthael merely shoved them aside without effort. The mortal let out a small squeal of fright before she stood up, holding her wounded arm. She saw it was him and seemed to relax.

She feared demons, but not him? Was she truly a fool?

"End it." she finally said.

Malthael tilted his head once more at the request.

"I can feel its influence spreading," she pleaded, one of her eyes already turning into a demonic shade of yellow, "End it. Please. I understand it's what you want."

"You...do not know what I want."

The mortal laughed sadly. "The Prophecy states 'Death, at last, shall spread its wings over all'. Are you not Death? Will you not claim our souls?"

She moved closer, her hand slowly beginning to decay. "What is one more soul?"

Malthael suddenly drove one of his shotels upwards, slicing into her ribcage. The mortal's eyes widened and she let out a choke of agony, he lifted her off of her feet, sawing through her small, frail body. She twitched on the weapon, clutching the angel's robes.

"Yes...Yes! I am happy to die by your hand, Lord Malthael!" she groaned, blood gushing from her mouth. "End it! End the evil that dwells within me!"

Malthael sliced deeper until he pierced her through her body. She peered into that black hood, or really, through him. Her fingers, soaked with her own blood grasped his hood. She leaned forward and shakily placed a kiss on the side of his head before falling dead to the floor.

Malthael stared down at the dead thing.

Such a waste of breath and soul.

O

Pandemonium was a hollow thing.

Malthael listened to the whispers of the dead as he stood at the epicenter. And the mortal's soul was there beside him, sadly staring into the abyss. Her body was frozen in time-when he had killed her.

"Do they haunt you, Malthael?" she asked.

He ignored the shade.

"Their whispers are music, are they not?" she continued, "Shall I sing you a song as well?"

Then, the mortal turned, peering into the depths. "Do you hear it? The Nephalem comes for you."

Malthael turned now, seeing the shape of the Nephalem approaching slowly. He knew the time had come when this brazen creature would come for him.

O

Tyrael saw it.

He saw the mortal shade who wept for his fallen brother. Imperius saw it as well.

"Why does she weep for him?" the Archangel of Valor said.

Tyrael did not know. Such a thing was bizarre to him. Malthael had sought to destroy her kind and from the looks of her present condition, he had surely ended her.

Why?

Why did she weep?

Tyrael approached what remained of his fallen brother. The shade did not acknowledge him. She simply rested against the ash of Malthael's wings, somehow drawing comfort from it.

"He sought to free us from ourselves..." she said, "Why did you stop him?"

"He would have ended you." Tyrael was confused by her despair.

The mortal looked up at him, shaking her head. "No. He opened my eyes." she whispered, tears falling. "He allowed me to see the true meaning of things. Humans don't deserve to live."

Imperius shared her sentiments.

"No, that's wrong." Tyrael argued, disturbed by her words.

"We are the flawed products of a deranged mind," the mortal whispered, "Malthael saw that. He wanted to cleanse Sanctuary of evil. I understand. I saw it. The truth."

"No." Tyrael straightened where he stood. "He corrupted you. I see that now. You became influenced by his touch. He opened your eyes, but he closed your heart."

"Perhaps the same can be said of you as well."

Tyrael could see there was no changing her mind. He turned to depart. "You will wander this wretched abyss for all eternity, shade."

The mortal said nothing more.

She just rested there, weeping over the remains of her fallen angel.

**Author's Note:**

> This was also partially inspired by a work of fanart entitled "Malthael" on Deviantart by fexddo. And a work entitled "A Snack Before the Feast" by ARCrebs.


End file.
